


The Fall of a Prince

by LizzardLady



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: AU where Laurent is dethroned instead of Damen, Drabble, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 14:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzardLady/pseuds/LizzardLady
Summary: What would happen if Laurent had been sent to Damen as a slave instead? This one-shot tells the beginning; the confusion, the disbelief, the unease.





	The Fall of a Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I wrote this one-shot for a paper for my English class, so there's nothing too bad in there, and I changed a few things around. This won't be getting a sequel; this was just for my paper, and just for fun. Hope you enjoy!

Laurent lounged lazily in his room, sat upon a velvet couch that adorned his colors; blue and gold. Open in his lap was a book, and in his hand was a golden goblet, its contents being water. Although he wasn’t much for wine, others seemed to think so. He sipped on his water, his attention drifting from his book to the window on the far wall. The night looked clear, with stars dappled across the darkened sky. Laurent’s gaze flickered over to his large, inviting bed, and he put the goblet down on the table. He lifted the book from his lap, closing it unconsciously as he made his way over to his bed. Laurent’s movements were halted by the sound of his bedroom door opening, and he turned his cold blue eyes on whoever was disturbing him without knocking. An unfamiliar guard entered the room, coming forward a few paces before kneeling in front of his Prince. Laurent narrowed his eyes as the arrival, and of the color of the guard’s clothes. Red.

“Rise,” Laurent commanded, examining the guard further as he stood. “Why have you come? And without knocking.”

The guard seemed to hesitate, as if he was afraid to speak further, “I have come to announce your downfall, and also your uncle’s rise in power.”

Laurent narrowed his eyes at the guard. He was the Regent’s, he knew, by the color of his armor and the message he had come to bring. Messages from his uncle weren’t ordinary, but they weren’t out of the ordinary, either. That wasn’t what was bothering him. The contents of the message were. Laurent made to speak, but cut himself off when the guard held out a sealed envelope to him. It was sealed with his uncle’s signet in red wax, a simple crown. Laurent took the letter, opening it and reading its contents. The details mostly revised what the Regent’s messenger had said, along with a few details that weren’t as important. Carefully, Laurent ripped the letter in half, and then into fours, letting the torn parchment flutter to the floor.

“So my uncle plans to take my throne,” Laurent pondered, “How, exactly?”

“Like this,” the guard answered, and before Laurent could so much as blink, everything was black.

 

\-----

 

The first thing Laurent noticed was how dark it was. And then he noticed the throbbing in his head, along with the rocking of a ship. Thoughts came and went too quickly, his mind foggy with the aftermath of being knocked out. He forced himself to think, to ignore the pounding headache he had. Laurent propped himself up into a splayed sitting position, pushing some of his buttercup hair out of his eyes, even though it was too dark to see much anyway. Somewhat distantly, the sound of waves confirmed his earlier suspicions of being on a boat. Where the boat was heading was a mystery to Laurent, and he didn’t like that at all.

Roughly, the ship went over an immensely big wave—at least, that’s what Laurent assumed, he couldn’t really see much—and he toppled. The thundering pain in his head made itself known once more, and this time he stayed on the ground. What felt like hours passed before the boat seemed to stop, bobbing up and down in place. Laurent took this as an opportunity to sit up again, with a little more grace this time. What had been a horrible headache had faded to a dull pain in the back of his mind, making his thoughts clearer than earlier.

The door to Laurent’s chamber swung open, and a tall, muscly man stood in the doorway. He ordered for Laurent to get to his feet, and so he did.

“Where are we?” Laurent dared to ask, and he got what he expected: a hard slap across the face.

“Servants do not speak out of term. Servants do not speak unless spoken to,” spat the other, and Laurent took a moment to recalculate.

Forced along, the tall man brought Laurent above deck. Sunlight was creeping along the horizon, beginning to chase out the darkness of the night. Laurent got a better look at himself now that he was out of the shadows, finding that he had been completely tended to. He was wearing a servant’s garbs; simple, plain clothing that didn’t compare to his usual complicated Veretian garments. Polished golden cuffs were fastened around his wrist, along with a collar of the same material. When he reached up to feel his blond hair, he could tell the cut was different.

Something felt awfully off about all of this. Of course, going from Crown Prince of Vere to a mere servant within twenty-four hours would be off-putting for anyone. Laurent cast his icy gaze over the landscape, looking for any sign of where he was. The air was thick with the smell of salt, and he could see flags blazing red. Red, like his uncle’s flags, but these carried a roaring lion on them. Laurent felt his stomach drop at the sight, and he swung his gaze around, looking for the one thing he knew he’d be able to recognize. Resting elegantly upon a cliff was an extravagant white building, confirming his inquiry. He was in Ios, which was in Akielos.

Laurent was in Akielos, many, many miles away from home.


End file.
